Inner workings.. made external

-The occasional conversations with my keyboard-

Happy is _

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The man who has never seen a golden Caribbean sunset wavering on the horizon, 
never watched the electric and pulsating skyline from the Empire State building,
never stood at the foot of majestic Swiss mountains that have made their home amongst the clouds.

With exposure comes an uneasy restlessness,
that can only be satiated with yet more glittering sights and sounds that but serve as a momentary but welcome distraction.

Wanderlust: It is many things.

But most of all, it is some kind of madness.

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We find…

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…discontent within contentment itself, unearth abnormalities from the perfectly sane, dissect the most genuine gestures in the misguided hope of revealing ill intent.


No, nothing is ever as it seems, because we live in a three dimensional world, thus every other facet of life must conceal it’s true self within layers. One dimensional thoughts, actions, feelings can no longer find a place in our vivid and reckless imagination.

So, in all the strength, zest and unbridled passion of youths, lies our darkest weakness. The true insufficiency of youth comes from an innate aversion towards the very concept of sufficiency.

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We were talking thunder

The rain was knocking on my window panes relentlessly, as though begging to be let in. Like it could not stand being resolutely shut out of the warmth of homes in the dead of the night.

You would think that a symbol of solidarity would have gotten used to loneliness by now. 

This isn’t a particularly clear memory, or the most detailed account of our encounters. But sometimes, it takes the most muddled of circumstances to allow a few single details to shine through. And that would be enough. Because memories are things to be left alone. You turn them over again and again in your mind, trying to find something new. You try to access some deep crevice within your brain where the entire experience lies, nestled comfortably, waiting to be aroused from a drugged sleep. But the old makes way for new, and we subconsciously filter memories, sometimes losing the most important insignificant minutes of our lives. 

I don’t know why or how, but we were talking thunder.

"Now." I said, and the same word left your lips just a quarter of a heartbeat later. Miles apart, we do see the same streak of lightning across the sky, and hear the same accompanying thunder. Somehow I found someone to test out this theory with, and I found it in you.

Moments later, listening to the distant echoes of thunder with the magic of childlike wonder spread over me like covers, I mused that I would never ever find someone as selfless like you. 

And I was right.

There will always be a part of me that wishes you were more like thunder than lightning; gone too soon, shining too bright for it’s own good.

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You knew it but you wanted to feel it

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Wanted the giddy thrill of liberation from being but one insignificant being amongst a backdrop of strange people, and even stranger skyscrapers… so that you might treasure familiarity.

Wanted to sit silently in an empty and cold room void of any memories so that you may know what fullness feels like.

Wanted to have your life imitate art forms; fluid and ever changing, so that you may appreciate stillness and routine.

And now that you have all you ever wanted, you know what you have always known;

The grass is greener where it rains.

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Seeing things… changes you as a person.
I may be forever changed.
Rome 2012.

Seeing things… changes you as a person.

I may be forever changed.


Rome 2012.

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